Arrrrrr!

We are downbound on the Pamlico River, bound for the ICW and Belhaven, North Carolina. We had a pleasant few days up the Pamlico and got to spend some time with good friends, but now we need to be moving along to our next scheduled stop.

Vector dominating the T-head at the State Dock in Bath, NC. We stick out on both ends.

The remainder of our offshore passage was uneventful. I turned off the Ocean Data on the Starlink after we crossed the territorial limit, and we made Beaufort Inlet at close to max flood. We had the anchor down in a familiar spot off Fort Macon and the Coast Guard station (map) by 8:15 and enjoyed a well-earned beer.

Catching the sunset just as we arrive to Beaufort Inlet.

Tuesday morning after we were well-rested we moved just a mile and a half to a new anchorage for us, just south of Sugar Loaf Island in Morehead City (map). I had an Amazon delivery at the counter in town, and we figured to just spend the night here rather than dinghy over from Fort Macon and then move Vector to Beaufort, where we expected the anchorage to be quite busy.

The brew pub is still here.

For reasons unknown the NOAA tide station right at the Morehead City waterfront is just plain wrong, reporting that we were making our entry at low tide when it fact it was close to high. We've made a note to use the other two nearby stations instead when planning an arrival here. We had plenty of water in our chosen spot, so it was not an issue.

Tower 7 now on the Morehead waterfront. Jacks behind it.

We splashed the tender and I headed ashore to the free public dock and walked across the street to the nice chandlery where the Amazon counter was located. I picked up my package and then had a bit of a walk around town to reacquaint myself. I was pleased to find Tower 7 Baja Grill, a favorite of ours in Wrightsville Beach, has come in where the Ruddy Duck folded a couple of years ago, and that there were still a half dozen decent eateries in town. I ended at the mini mart for a half gallon of milk before heading home.

I never remember there is a nice Italian place in town until I run into it on my walk.

I was extremely disappointed to find they had sent me yet another 36v solenoid in a 24v box, again acing me out of finishing the charging system for the start battery. Giving up on this vendor, I went back to Amazon to find an alternate product on fast delivery, and this time I settled on a 12v model. I spent the next hour or so in the engine room rewiring the work I had already done to accommodate the change.

King Neptune on the dock at the Olympus Dive Center.

Afterwards I went back ashore for another walk, stumbled into a barber shop that I sorely needed, and after strolling the west end of town I crossed over for a quick walk on Sugar Loaf before heading home. I picked up Louise and we headed right back ashore for dinner at Tower 7, since we had missed it this pass in Wrightsville, landing at their own dock. It was decent but we both thought the other location was better. Lots of other choices in this town, too. We finished with a little stroll around town.

Dueling Piano bar, Morehead City.

Wednesday morning we weighed after the turn of the tide and had a decent push all the way to the Neuse. The Neuse was calm and we had a nice run all the way to Hobucken. Knowing we would be at the docks in Washington for a couple of days, I started calling divers; here in the calm water with virtually no tidal current I could really feel how much the marine growth was slowing us down. Right after passing under the Hobucken bridge we passed our old friend, the tug Pamlico, pushing yet another load of phosphate.

Passing Pamlico on one whistle in front of the Hobucken Coast Guard station.

We made the next possible right turn into Eastham Creek, a new spot for us, and dropped the hook in the only spot we could find that was free of pot floats yet not right in the middle of the channel (map). I grilled a nice steak for dinner. We saw only one other boat in the creek, maybe ¾ mile from us, and we had one of the darkest, quietest nights in some time. I went out in the evening to marvel at the stars.

A scooterist after my own heart, with a large succulent on the floorboards. We carry stuff this way all the time.

Thursday was a calm day on the Pamlico and we had a pleasant run upriver to Washington, which around here is known as Little Washington (to distinguish it from DC) or, as they like to tell the tourists, the original Washington, named for the President in 1776. We tied up at a spot along the free dock (map) after first running aground a hundred feet further west on the same face dock. Stacey and Dave met us on the dock, and dockmaster George and his wife Diana came by a short time later to say hello.

Vector in the anchorage as seen from Sugar Loaf Island.

We spent two nights on the free dock, the limit, and then moved over to a T-head with water and power for the next two nights (map). We needed the water and power anyway to get the laundry done and top off the tanks. I had figured to take one night, for a three-night stay, but the earliest the diver could get to us was Monday morning, and so we made it a more comfortable two. George put us on the same T-head with Stinkpot, where we had to back our swim step to about 18" from theirs, and our bow still stuck out 12' past the end of the dock.

The Washington dockmaster posted this photo of Vector with Stinkpot in the background. Photo: George Wunschel

It rained on and off for our entire stay, and when it was not raining it was muggy. We were glad to have the power for the AC during the worst of it, and we had to run the gen a bit to charge batteries at the free dock. The waterfront becomes something of a river when it rains, and one night coming back from dinner we had to wade through about three inches to get back to the dock.

Urban renewal, in the form of nice brick sidewalks everywhere, truncated this terrazzo business name, which outlived the business itself.

The rain kept us from offloading the scooters to get into the suburban shopping district, but we did get a Walmart delivery to restock the provisions. We also got our mail and a few Amazon deliveries by way of the office. I managed to walk every day in the gaps in the rain, usually with Dave and sometimes Stacey and Louise. Since our last visit they have completed the connection from the waterfront dock area to the raised boardwalk downriver of the North Carolina Estuarium.

I always love seeing this theater marquee in the evening.

Across the four nights we ate at some familiar venues: Down on Main Street, Fat Cats, and Ribeyes, and one night we had take-out from Angi's Mexican Kitchen aboard Stinkpot, with a growler of beer from Two Rivers Ale House. We also had lunch on our final day at the Dairy Palace just so we could finish with ice cream cones before shoving off.

It is duckling and gosling season and they were everywhere in Washington, along with their droppings. I caught this family just as they started across the river.

On the never-ending project front, Amazon delivered the 12v solenoid and I finished the battery charging project (it's been working well since we left the dock), and I made an attempt to repair my ancient Triplett analog VOM, of which I am quite fond. I also helped Dave with a couple of critical projects aboard Stinkpot that he could not complete with his right hand out of commission, to wit, replacing a rotted vent hose on a fuel tank that was sending diesel fumes into their stateroom, using my fuel transfer pump to purge the line from that tank so that it could be safely used, and reconnecting the tank to the fuel system wherein I broke a flare nut and then had to re-flare the line to get it all working. Dave had a flare tool and I had a miniature tubing cutter, and we needed both to get it done.

My Triplett 310. Volts are fine but ohms are not working. I will probably just sell it for parts, sadly.

Not quite a project, but just as much work, we spent a whole rainy day working on travel plans and reservations. Louise will be flying to California the second week in June, and she booked flights out of Norfolk and a rental car. The Norfolk marina we have booked for the second half of the month could not simply give us the preceding two weeks, on account of the annual Harborfest immediately prior to our scheduled dates.They could give us the two weeks before that, but we'd have to be out for those two days, with no nearby anchorage.

Another unscheduled project; the bearing on the helm chair self-destructed. This is the fourth one we've had.

We know from past experience that every marina in a ten-mile radius would be fully booked for Harborfest, and it did not make sense to come in for two weeks, run a couple of hours to a safe anchorage for two days, then come back, and so we started working on alternative plans. We ruminate for quite a while on me just staying at anchor someplace, maybe Hospital Point, while Louise is away for a week, but that has its own issues, including making the early-morning departure and late-evening return to and from the airport for Louise's flights more challenging and less comfortable.

I added this scrap of HDPE atop the sharp edge of the seat post years ago to protect the bearing. It helps, but only delays the inevitable.

In the end we decided we would dock the boat in downtown Norfolk for that week, and we were lucky to get a reservation for those dates. That now has us arriving to Norfolk on June 5 and departing July 5, for a nice round month, but with one week downtown and two weeks out in the boonies, with the intervening time at anchor. Among other things this would let us actually enjoy Harborfest this time, which will also include a flotilla of tall ships on their way to New York for the 250th Independence Day.

Stacey captured our departure from Little Washington.

Our reservation downtown has set the travel schedule for the next ten days, but it is a relaxed one. Yesterday and today's trip on the Pamlico and the crossing of Albemarle Sound are really the only two segments subject to weather, and we're leaving a buffer at the end in case we need to wait on the Sound crossing. We'll kill the time at that end at Great Bridge and Portsmouth, two of our favorite stops anyway.

That's a lot of rules, for pirates. "More what you'd call guidelines" I once heard. Registration forms are in the mailbox. 

Yesterday Josh the diver arrived first thing in the morning and spent over an hour cleaning our hull. His report matched our expectations: an extensive coating of mostly small barnacles on the hull and propeller. It's made a big difference; we've picked up half a knot or so. The dockmaster gave us a late checkout, and after lunch and ice cream we said our goodbyes and dropped lines for the little over two hour cruise to Bath.

Not the oldest church in Bath; this one dates to 1894. The oldest church in the state is a short distance away, dating to 1734, but I could not get a pic.

In the middle of that cruise the heavens opened and visibility dropped to less than a hundred yards; I ran the fog horn for a half hour. The boat got a good rinse, though. Fortunately it had tailed off to a light drizzle by the time we were turning into Bath Creek, where we made our way through the shallow harbor to the State Dock at Hardings Landing (map). We had sounded out the T-head on our last stop here and reasoned we could just make it with inches under the keel; at this water level we had a luxurious foot under keel once we were tied up.

The view from the helm just after I started the horn.

The torrential rain storm was a blessing, inasmuch as the dock was available at all on Memorial Day. We had already agreed we were not going to tender ashore from the anchorage in the rain, so the dock was key to getting ashore at all. After filling out the required permit form for the dock (free up to 72 hours) we grabbed our umbrellas and walked over to Blackbeard's Tavern for pizza and beer. Edward Teach lived here in Bath and the town has leaned in to its Blackbeard connection; the local school sports teams being, of course, The Pirates. The pizza was good and they had several drafts, but everyone in the joint knew we were from away.

Sign at Bonners Point. I could fill an album just with historical signs in Bath.

There was another downpour during dinner but it was again only drizzling on the walk home, and later when it stopped altogether I went out for a walk around Bonner's Point, with many historic homes, churches, and parks. This morning we both walked to the post office, the closest one we'll see until after Norfolk, wagon in tow, to ship off some of Louise's quilts.

Last night's sunset over Bath Creek, just before my walk.

The water level dropped four inches overnight, and we dropped lines to leave as soon as our errands were done, not wanting to risk it dropping much more. Tonight we will be in Belhaven harbor, our last civilization  until Great Bridge. Our next two nights will be at anchor in the Alligator and North rivers.

Update: We are anchored in a familiar spot in Belhaven harbor (map). I could not get all the photos loaded and captioned before we pulled in to the harbor. If the weather cooperates we will go ashore later for dinner.

Holy City, Batman, here we come.

We are again underway southbound in the Atlantic Ocean, this time off the South Carolina coast. We are making the day run to Charleston Harbor from Winyah Bay. Our reservation there starts tomorrow, but we need to make a slack-water entry at 11 AM, so we will anchor someplace tonight and make our way to the marina in the morning. It was supposed to be a nice day for a passage, but we have been bouncing over three foot rollers under medium chop since making the turn south.

Sunset over the Bird Island anchorage off the Little River.

Saturday we arrived to the Little River inlet against the last of the ebb, but we were glad to get inside the jetties and out of the slop. I was also happy to have a little against us as I worked my way into Bonaparte Creek behind Bird Island. The anchorage was chock full, between several cruising boats and a couple of  locals on day hooks, and we had to work our way back past a 6' shoal, at dead low tide, to find a decent spot (map). One of the locals looked to have wrapped his prop and was diving on it as we passed. I'm happy to now have a track, because that might be the best spot in the anchorage. We had a nice dinner on board and a very comfortable night.

Myrtle Beach and the Grand Strand can be something of a gantlet on pleasant weekends, and so Sunday morning we made an early start to beat the traffic. We had a quiet couple of hours through Calabash Crossroads, Little River, and Myrtle Beach, and did not see traffic picking up until we were past the Rock Pile and approaching Barefoot Landing. It was a gorgeous day, and even in the more remote stretch through Socastee we saw a lot of small boats out enjoying it.

Wait, where are we? Not Easter Island, but Grand Dunes.

The early start had us at Wacca Wache before 2, and we pulled up to the fuel dock to squeeze another couple hundred gallons in at a great price of just $2.96 per gallon. We dropped the hook in our usual spot across the river at the mouth of Cow House Creek (map), where on this visit we had to squeeze in among three other boats. Several more boats from the day's conga line passed us to anchor further down the creek. We dropped the tender and headed back to the marina for dinner at Outriggers Bar & Grill.

We were well set on a short scope, but kept a watchful eye out through the evening's 20-knot gusts. We had a comfortable night, but found ourselves in just 7' of water Monday morning with king tides. We caught just the last hour of the ebb and then slow-rolled against the flood the rest of the day, all the way to Georgetown.

We always see turtles on the Waccamaw. This was the closest shot I could get.

We normally anchor in Georgetown, but with two nights of forecast subfreezing temperatures, and not a lot warmer during the day, we decided to take a dock with power and hunker down until the cold snap passed. We were a bit late on the draw, and all the marinas in the Georgetown Basin were full up when I called on Sunday, and we settled for the Georgetown Landing Marina out on the Pee Dee River.

This was our first time here, and after making the nearly 180° turn off the Waccamaw it was just about a mile to the docks. We tied up on the inside face dock at the north end (map), which turned out to be a comfortable spot. They still had room when we arrived but had filled up before the day was out and were turning boats away.

The building shoal at Cow House Creek is visible at low tide.

While it was still warm enough to be comfortable I put the e-bike on the ground and made a pilgrimage to Walmart for provisions, stopping at the UPS drop in the hardware store en route. From this dock the quaint downtown with a half dozen restaurants is too far to walk, and so at dinner time we walked the mile to El Cerro Grande, a decent Mexican place that was really one of only two options. The food was good and they had Dos Equis Ambar by the pitcher, but the walk along US 17 is not the pleasant stroll found elsewhere in town.

The temperature dropped rapidly overnight and the winds picked up, gusting up into the 40s. We had doubled lines when we tied up, and we buttoned up every opening on the boat. We ended up running the heat all night, uncharacteristic for us even at a dock. By the time we awoke in the morning the temperature had climbed back up to just 32°.

The high winds and low temps persisted all day, and we mostly stuck to indoor activities. In the mid-afternoon it warmed up enough for me to add water while tracking down a leak in the engine room that only occurs when we top up the fresh water tank. I also remediated a persistent rust streak under one of the portlights. It looks like the outer trim will need to be removed and re-bedded. I also bundled up and took a short walk around the marina neighborhood.

The steel stand for this scarecrow outside the pizza joint literally snapped in the high winds.

At dinner time we braved the cold to walk to the closest place, Southern Pizza Company, ironically right next door to Pizza Hut. Draft beer and surprisingly good pizza; we had the thick crust. We had two slices left over and neither of us wanted to carry a box home with the temps in the 30s; we persuaded them to give us some food service foil instead and I was able to stuff the wrapped slices into my parka pocket.

After Louise turned in for the night I started seeing posts in my feed about Northern Lights being visible in the Carolinas and as far south as northern Florida. I did go outside to look, but there are far too many artificial lights here to be able to see anything that faint. Ironically, boats that could not get marina reservations and stopped in some of the more remote anchorages probably had a great view.

Yesterday things started to warm back up and it would have been a fine day to make the first of a two-day run to Charleston down the inside. But this is one of the most shoal-ridden sections of the entire ICW, requiring judicious timing of tides in several spots and focused attention to the helm, so when Louise deemed today acceptable for an outside run, we opted to just stay put in Georgetown and leave this morning.

Last night's sunset from our anchorage in the Western Channel of Winyah Bay.

With the cold snap over we had no need to stay at the dock, and I wanted to be able to enjoy downtown for one evening, and so we made plans to leave the dock and drive around the corner into the basin for the night. We knew the anchorage would empty out by mid-morning and we watched the exodus on AIS. We planned to linger at the dock until close to lunch time to take advantage of power while things were still warming back up.

Before that time came, I learned the space weather event was still ongoing and there was a possibility again last night of an aurora visible on the horizon from our location. We both decided the chance of seeing the Northern Lights trumped dinner in Georgetown, and we shifted gears to anchoring in the Western Channel, where we might get a view over the distant light pollution of the Grand Strand. The marina gave us a late checkout and we stayed at the dock until after 3 PM.

We pushed downriver against the flood and dropped the hook in a familiar spot south of the ICW junction (map). We found four sailboats already in the anchorage, and we unplugged our string of lights as a courtesy. We had a nice dinner on board and settled in. Sadly, by early evening the NOAA aurora forecast was saying the view line would be quite far north of us, somewhere in Pennsylvania. I still got up and looked several times throughout the evening, but saw only the glow of the Strand.

Sunrise underway this morning as we made our way out Winyah Bay.

If nothing else the move to the Western Channel cut nearly an hour off today's cruise. We still left before dawn, but the plotter has us arriving ahead of 4 PM and not just before sunset. That's early enough that we might be able to tender ashore for dinner, depending on where we end up dropping the hook.

We'll be in Charleston a full week, and my next post will be underway somewhere south of there. My next project is to figure out where we might be around Thanksgiving and make some dinner reservations, before everyone is sold out.

A week through North Carolina

We are underway southbound in the Atlantic Ocean, with Oak Island and Cape Fear receding behind us. It's been a week since I last posted, and in that time our always-fuzzy plan for the immediate future has coalesced a bit. More on that after I catch up the week.

Saturday's cruise across the Albermarle and through Croatan Sound was quite pleasant, but the wind picked up and things got a little lumpy at the very end of the day in Pamlico sound. We tucked further into the Long Shoal River than on previous stops and dropped the hook (map). We had a comfortable night, with two other boats joining us at a respectful distance over the course of the evening.

That stop made it a long day Sunday to the first decent anchorages in Adams Creek, but we knew we needed to be off the Neuse before Monday. It's a nice open-water cruise, and only two days out from my last blog post I used the time to organize a few things and research our next few legs and some travel plans.

Sunset from our anchorage on Long Shoal River.

Somewhere during the cruise I realized I was starting to come down with something. In hindsight, it's probably the same thing that made Louise miserable for several days and that we both hoped was just a bad allergy attack. I was mostly OK the rest of the day and we dropped the hook a little before dinner time in Adams Creek, at a new spot for us owing to forecast northerlies (map).

As I expected, by Monday morning I had a full-blown cold, but it was not yet bad enough to be popping pills, and we weighed anchor to make it to Beaufort before it got any worse. The anchorage was packed full when we arrived, with a couple of boats still circling like vultures. We proceeded directly to our secret-squirrel spot wedged in between a green daymark and the rear range light for the offshore channel (map). This is a tight spot and I have to maneuver to land the anchor in about a ten-foot diameter circle, but the holding is good, and no one will get too close to us here.

I took some cold meds and had a big nap, which had me feeling good enough to tender ashore and go to Finz, a casual burger joint with drafts, for dinner. We both really needed to get off the boat and stretch our legs after three days on board. I dropped an eBay sale in the mailbox before we headed home. By bedtime I knew we would not be going anywhere in the morning, even though it would be a good outside window to Wrightsville Beach.

Our defensive channel marker, close aboard.

Tuesday is sort of a blur; I was in and out of bed and tried half-heartedly to get some things done around the house. We managed to get back ashore for dinner, which was a very disappointing return to Mescalito. Louise had a disappointing "burrito" at Finz that was not Mexican at all and so was craving it, even though we knew from experience Mescalito can be hit or miss. North Carolina is not known for its Mexican food. Anyway, the steak fajitas were tough and hardly seasoned.

By Wednesday morning I felt OK enough to drive the boat, no longer needing any meds, although we got up later than the pre-dawn start we would have needed for the last of the window offshore. Wanting to be moving on, we set off down the ICW to the lone anchorage in range, the basin known as Mile Hammock on the Marine Corps Base Camp Lejeune. We ended up at the north end of the already crowded anchorage and dropped the hook in 20 knots out of the south (map).

This anchorage has a soft mud bottom that is not exactly the Bruce's forte, and even on 7:1 we dragged slowly for a couple of hours before re-setting a little further south. I kept an eye on things until the wind let up a bit before I turned in, and the rest of the night was uneventful. We have not had this sort of problem in other parts of the anchorage, so I think the holding is a little better further south. In hindsight we could have squeezed in among the boats already there, and this paragraph will serve to remind us next time.

A quick glimpse at the wind as we passed through Camp Lejeune on the ICW.

With the supermoon come king tides, and Thursday we did a lot of dodging and weaving around well-known shoals as the water level dropped below zero. We heard lots of boats running aground, and I radioed back to one guy following us, no doubt wondering why I was going Crazy Ivan, that he had best follow my line through one particularly bad spot. We made it to Wrightsville Beach without incident, but it was dead low when we arrived and we went the long way around rather than take Motts Channel, which has a shallow bar right next to the ICW.

The anchorage was busy but we found a decent spot to drop the hook (map). After our disappointment in Beaufort the third time is the charm, and we tendered ashore to Tower 7 Baja Grill for dinner, where the fajitas were as good as always. Since our last visit they have brightened the interior, changing the ceiling from black to white and adding brighter lights. I preferred it a bit darker and less harsh, but the food is still good and you can still get Ambar by the pitcher.

We needed a few grocery items and wandered over to Robert's after dinner. They had most of what we needed, and we judged it good enough to avoid me having to hike into town in the morning to go to Harris Teeter. I was still not feeling 100%, and I was happy to pay the boutique prices at Robert's to avoid another trip. On the ride how we remarked that an anchor light across the harbor looked pretty close to the docks.

These bombed-out (literally) personnel carriers on the barrier island are practice targets for the Marines.

We soon learned why. I had barely taken my coat off and sat down when a call came in to the Coast Guard from a boat in the harbor that was dragging anchor and had fouled its propeller. He sounded panicked that he might be dragged into the bridge. The CG put him in touch with TowBoat, but they were a half hour out.

We jumped in the tender and headed over to him. We were able to take one of his lines over to a piling at one of the docks, which evidently he had already hit, which would at least keep him from hitting the bridge if his anchor let go. He seemed very relieved to have that safety valve. With TowBoat already on the way we wished him well and headed home. Eventually we saw them tow him to a more distant part of the anchorage to await a diver in the morning.

I have been working through how I can get back to NJ for a visit with my parents ever since we had to blow right past them offshore on account of weather. We hoped-for plans to just take the train up from Hampton Roads fell through on account of lack of dock availability, my attention next shifted to right here at Wrightsville Beach, where it's very easy to get to Wilmington airport and a short flight to Newark.

This Nordhavn in Wrightsville Beach was also with us in Mile Hammock. I think that may be one of the international lifeboat colors.

The current situation with Air Traffic Control has given us pause about doing any flying, and literally while I was working through the possibilities the announcement came out that the FAA would be mandating reduced flights. That sealed the deal, and we decided instead that I should just tough it out on Amtrak from the next available station, which will be in Charleston. (Amtrak serves Wilmington via a four-hour bus ride; no thanks.)

With nothing thus keeping us in Wrightsville Beach (or turning us upriver to Wilmington), we set our sights on the next stop south, which is Southport. This is a challenging stop for us because there are no anchorages, leaving us to either anchor well out of town in the Cape Fear, or take a dock. We needed water and a pump-out anyway, which made the decision for us, and I booked a slip at St. James Plantation, which had everything we needed including an on-site restaurant.

That's where we were headed when we left the Wrightsville Beach anchorage yesterday morning, but about halfway down the Cape Fear we realized we would be arriving at a tide of -0.3'. We went back to our notes from the last visit which said the channel was shallow, and we had arrived then at a much higher tide. A call to the marina confirmed we might see just 5½' on the entrance.

Vector at night as seen from the Baldhead ferry terminal. Dwarfed by the 55 Nordhavn next to us.

We could stop someplace for a couple of hours for better tide, but that would cut into the time available to do the laundry with a marina water supply. I made some hurried last-minute calls and we settled for a spot at Deep Point Marina, which we remembered from a decade ago. I got off the phone literally moments before making the turn into the basin, where we had just a foot under keel in the channel and plowed mud at the turn into the slip (map). We docked bow-in with the anchor overhanging the dock so I could work on the anchor roller, which made for a tricky tie-up at the stern involving lassoing a piling from the boat deck.

We had noticed the anchor roller on the verge of losing a bolt when we weighed in Wrightsville, and when I could not budge the bolts with hand tools I knew we'd have to attack it from a dock or else I would be hanging off the bow in a bosun's chair. The dock made it easy and with some PB blaster, a mini torch, and an impact driver I was able to get the bent bolt out and remove the roller. I had to clean the axle threads up with a tap, and I replaced both rollers and two bolts as a precaution. It took me an hour and change working from the dock.

The reason we've never been back to this marina is that it is next to absolutely nothing, and so at dinner time we called a cab. Uber tried its best but had no drivers available, and the local "guy" who runs the service in town turned out to be "on a private drive all night in Wilmington." Oak Island Cab sent a taxi in 15 minutes and he dropped us in town for $22. That's pretty steep just to go to dinner, but Uber was available for our return ride for just half that. We had a nice meal at the Moore Street Oyster Bar, which has an impressive row of draft handles.

Tap list at MSOB. Many servers were wearing the "shuck me" shirts.

Had we made it to St. James Plantation last night, there is no question that we would have continued down the ICW today, weaving through some of the most notorious shoals on the waterway. And I can see on my scope more than a dozen boats doing just that. But stopping as we did a bit further upriver, we thought to check the outside conditions for the relatively short 30-mile hop to Little River. It's a little lumpy out here, but within our tolerance, and it's a much easier watch. That also let us drive right past the pump-out dock that we had planned to use. We left the river via the Western Bar Channel with five feet of tide. We found the least depth to be 8' MLLW, which would be nerve-wracking at low tide.

We should be at the anchorage off the Little River a good hour or so before sunset, and tomorrow we will get an early start to beat the weekend traffic in Myrtle Beach and continue down the inside. Louise has a big batch of pasta e fagioli on the stove for tonight. We have at least four days to Charleston, including a fuel stop and at least one night in Georgetown. We might take a dock there while the temperatures dive into the low 30s.

I was able to get a reservation at our preferred marina in Charleston starting on the 14th for a week, and I already have my train tickets. I'll be going in to Philly and renting a car there. Louise will be holding down the fort for the couple of nights I am gone, and the rest of the week we expect to enjoy Charleston. It's been a couple of years since our last extended visit there.

Virginia, the bumper-boat state

We are underway southbound in the Pamlico Sound, finally back in motion after nearly a week pinned down by weather. We're not alone; with the first good weather in that long, everyone, it would seem, is on the move.

This serving tray was on the wall at Back Bay Ale House. I grew up in a Ballantine household.

When last I posted here, we were underway offshore to Atlantic City. We made good time and thus arrived a bit ahead of the flood, pushing our way in Absecon Inlet on the last of the ebb. We had the hook down in our usual spot (map) just before 5:30 and we immediately splashed the tender and headed to dinner at the Back Bay Ale House in Gardner Basin. We decked the tender as soon as we returned home, for an early morning start.

Saturday morning we weighed anchor at 5 AM to catch the tail end of the ebb. Conditions looked good for a straight run to Hampton Roads, but as cheap insurance we ran closer to shore on the route toward Cape May instead, giving us both a calmer ride and also an easier bail-out. The slight diversion added just a mile to the Hampton Roads route.

Leaving Absecon Inlet at zero-dark-thirty. Taken through a messy window.

With the forecast holding and actual conditions 3nm offshore excellent, we made the call about halfway to Cape May and came left onto the direct route. With westerlies for the whole ride, I plotted the course very close to shore off Assateague Island. The longest fetch was the open jaw from Cape May to Lewes, and even that was decent.

Traffic offshore was very light. We were passed by a couple of power cruisers, and we passed a couple of sailboats. I had one tug towing a barge, the Bart L, going the other way that I had to dodge; he was doing exactly what I was doing and "running the beach" as my tow-skipper friend calls it. By contrast, all the pleasure traffic was another ¾ mile or more offshore.

Our view underway when maneuvering I have towels over the plotters to see out the window.

We had a fair current the whole way, and before the start of solo watchkeeping I dropped the rpm so we would not arrive too early. As expected, though, we reached the mouth of the Chesapeake while I was still in the berth. This was the first open fetch since Delaware Bay, and here toward the end of the good window we found ourselves in 2-3 footers on the beam. Louise increased rpm accordingly, and I ended up waking up a good hour early and took over the watch at 8 AM, before we even reached the Chesapeake Bay Bridge Tunnel.

Our intended destination was the anchorage at Phoebus, as we always prefer anchoring over docking at the end of an overnight passage. I will spare you all the gory details, but while we were offshore I spent hours Saturday working out travel arrangements to go back to NJ for a visit with my folks from the Hampton area, since the weather had us whizzing by them without being able to stop as I had planned. I had the perfect trip arranged by train out of Newport News.

Sunrise over the North Atlantic.

What we learned before Louise even turned in was that there was not a dock to be had anywhere near Hampton on Monday for love or money. Evidently the enormous "Salty Dawg" offshore rally was staging in Hampton Roads and waiting on good offshore weather (they all left this morning). I call every marina from Newport News to Portsmouth and nary a space was to be had. I had cancelled all the travel reservations by Sunday morning.

What that also told us was that it would be a very, very tight squeeze into Phoebus, if we could fit at all. All of the rally boats who could not get a dock, or those who simply did not want to pay for one, were packed into every anchorage in the Hampton Roads area. And so it was that we decided to wave off Phoebus even as we were crossing over the Bridge Tunnel.

Sunset and a blurry crescent moon over Assateague Island.

Fortunately, we had the flood behind us coming into the roadstead, and that flood would take us as far down the Elizabeth as we cared to travel. We decided we could muster the energy to get tied up at High Street in Portsmouth, or maybe even Great Bridge if necessary, since it was the middle of the day in fair conditions. We knew wherever we stopped, that's where we'd be pinned down for the impending winds.

Normally I cross the ship channel and run down the northern part of the Elizabeth just outside of the green side. But an hour out we heard an announcement that they were moving dredge pipe and the whole channel would be closed until after noon, and so instead I swung wide and took the red side, where we could get around it. A cruising sailboat under power whom we had seen offshore, who does not understand the special channel rules at Thimble Shoals, nearly ran us into one of the reds in the Auxiliary Channel, even after clear communication on the radio. Clueless skippers in the very busy Hampton Roads area was a key reason we slowed down enough for me to be on watch as we arrived.

Lots of offshore wind farm activity now in Norfolk.

The diversion proved wholly unnecessary, as they had reopened the channel by 9:45, well ahead of the noon estimate, but I was already on the red side and had to stay there. Just as well, because by this hour the ship pilots were already fed up with the pleasure craft operating erratically. One pilot on an ultra-large (a special category with special rules) had the patience of Job explaining how, yes, he was indeed going to need the entire channel.

We arrived to High Street right around noon, and, unsurprisingly, the basin was entirely full. Our secret-squirrel spot on the outside bulkhead was open, but we had to think long and hard about spending three days pinned down there in a windstorm. In the end, we opted to pass it by and press ahead to Great Bridge, taking a chance on there still being room at the bulkhead.

Lots of activity on the water, at least for now while the last of the funds holds out.

Our planned fuel stop at Top Rack is between these two docks, and even though it meant arriving an hour later to Great Bridge, we decided to make the stop and fuel up. We took on 750 gallons and left the dock in plenty of time for the 2:30 lockage at the Great Bridge Lock. The bridge past the lock, normally hourly, is opening only on the even hours now due to mechanical issues, and we had the lock to ourselves.

We were relieved to find two spots left on the bulkhead just before the bridge. Had there been none, we would have had to lock back through the other way and go back to Top Rack. We were tied up before 3 PM (map) and got secured for the coming winds. Louise, who had been fighting a severe allergy attack all day and did yeoman's work to dock, lock, and dock again through all the sneezing, crashed.

Vector at the Great Bridge bulkhead. We never saw anyone on the sailboat behind us, which seems to be just stored there.

She was in no shape to go out to dinner, and I ended up walking to Jersey Mike's, in the plaza that replaced our beloved Mexican joint here, for an Italian sub and some chips for dinner aboard. I had to walk right past the now-shuttered Vino's Italian Bistro, which had been our go-to since the Mexican place closed, until they moved out of walking distance earlier this year.

Monday the winds started building as forecast, but it was still a pleasant enough day to get off the boat and walk. That let me go straight to Kroger for emergency supplies. Louise had gone through every tissue on the boat over the course of two days of heavy allergies, and I had to replenish the Strategic Kleenex™ Reserve. She felt OK by dinner time and we walked across the bridges to the Lockside Grill for dinner. Monday turns out to be $6 burger night (we had no idea) and the place was packed, with people mostly older than us.

Coming home from dinner we got a strong smell of diesel crossing the bridge, and we could see a sheen moving past the boat. I made a report to the Coast Guard. I snapped this picture a full 17 hours later. There is a fuel dock just the other side of the bridge from us.

Tuesday was the most intense day of the storm, with winds gusting to 40 and heavy rain all day. We stayed cooped up inside all day, surfing the web and checking off indoor projects. Except when we were paying attention to the parade of boats that, for some reason, were still coming through the lock and bridge. Many never got the memo about the reduce openings for the bridge and had to station-keep for over an hour. And the weird schedule had too many boats to fit the lock on some openings, leaving the latecomers with unplanned two-hour delays.

By dinner time we were stir-crazy, and when the rain let up to something less than torrential, we grabbed our umbrellas and walked to the closest place. With Vino's gone that is now Chili's, and despite docking here for a decade we had never set foot inside. I think the last time we ate at a Chili's was on a Red Cross disaster deployment maybe 15 years ago, and we are no longer acclimated to this kind of American chain-restaurant fare. At least they had several beers on draft.

Vector on the wall as boats wait for a bridge opening.

Wednesday morning we could have gotten underway and made a Thursday window to cross the Albemarle, and in hindsight I am really sorry we did not. But Louise's phone went to the great cell tower in the sky in Atlantic City, and the replacement I ordered on Amazon had not yet arrived to the locker. By the time the notice came in the afternoon we had missed the window to depart. I took the e-bike down to the locker in light rain, hitting the dollar and grocery stores again on the way home. We walked to dinner at Kagura, with acceptable Japanese fare at an all-you-can-eat price of $26. Louise reported the sushi as a B-, but everything else was decent.

At 11 PM, after Louise had already turned in, I listened to a latecomer as he came through the lock. Apart from towboats, almost no one comes through the lock after about 6 PM. He asked both the lock and bridge tenders if they could see any room at either of the free docks, and as it turned out there was a big space right in front of us. Being nosy I watched him out the back door as he approached from the lock, and then I moved up to the pilothouse to watch him dock.

As seen from across the canal. We have three fenders out "just in case."

As I looked out the pilothouse door I was aghast to see him rapidly approaching Vector, and I flung the door open in my bathrobe just as his starboard side made contact with our port. We had set three fenders out on the port side as a precaution, and the center one saved us from what would have been a lot of damage from his rub rail. It cushioned the blow enough that Louise said it was my screaming rather than the impact that woke her up.

Unfortunately, his complete lack of skill and panic of the moment meant that he turned hard to port and applied power to get away (hard to starboard and rocking astern/ahead was the correct maneuver) and he swung his stern right into us, missing the aft fender and putting a deep gouge in our hull paint. After that he managed to get it docked, and I took a photo of his transom and told him to come by in the morning to provide his insurance. I did not want to go back out  in the rain.

This gouge is about 3" long. Fortunately not down to bare steel, but it's well into the fairing and will need to be ground, faired, primed, and painted, "hoping" it will blend in.

In the morning we heard him calling the bridge at 7:45 for the 8:00 opening. He had not said a word to us and I marched over there to get his info. Never even an apology, just some mumbling about how "these things happen." I showed him the damage, told him there might be more we have not found yet, and got his name, number, and insurance information. He was already gone by the time we called the Virginia Marine Police to come take a report.

There are few words to express how upset and disappointed I am that we have been hit yet again and need paint repair yet again, but while we are literally headed away from the place that should do that repair. We managed to go ten years without anyone bashing into us, and this is now the third time this year. Arranging repairs is highly disruptive, and we are never made whole for that disruption.

Buckets, a sports bar, is one of our dining options. Not today.

Any thought we had about shoving off Thursday morning went out the window as we were waiting on the marine police. Realistically we would have had to make the same 8 AM bridge opening as Dimwit had, and, even then, we'd be stuck in the North River for two nights waiting on today's window to cross the Albemarle. We decided to overstay our welcome by yet one more night, and I had a nice walk in the afternoon. We just went back to Lockside for dinner, which I guess will be our new standard here. It was very quiet in comparison to Burger Monday.

Yesterday morning we dropped lines at 5:45 for the 6:00 bridge opening. It was just us and the towboat Island Fox pushing a deck barge. We had to close the blinds on our back door as his floodlights were coming right in and ruining my night vision. Me made the 6:30 opening at Centerville Turnpike, just before it locks down for morning rush hour, and I moved over to let Island Fox get ahead of us.

Sunrise as we approach North Landing Bridge. That's Island Fox ahead of us.

Normally I have to either run wide open throttle to make the next bridge a half hour later, or else slow roll at idle to make it a full hour, and in the pitch dark it would have been the latter. But they open on demand for tugs with tows, and we just followed Island Fox through the bridge at 7:20, and just stayed behind him the rest of the day. With such an early start, we had time to make it all the way across the Albemarle and to an anchorage off Croatan Sound, but it was still blowing 25 when we got to the south end of the North River.

I called ahead to one of the faster boats that decided to plow across the sound and asked for a condition report. "Breaking over the windscreen" was all we needed to hear, and we pulled over to a familiar spot in a partial lee off Camden Point (map) for the night. We had the hook down before 2 PM. The new solar kept us topped up all afternoon and through dinner, until we needed heat in the evening.

Sunset over Camden Point last night from our anchorage.

This morning we slept in, getting underway around 8 AM, and the conditions have been perfect. Which is why pretty much every boat on the east coast is on the move. These are great conditions for the Pamlico Sound route, and yet still hardly anyone uses it. We've seen only three other boats since leaving the North River, while watching a whole conga line headed for the Alligator on the marked ICW route.

Peeling away from the conga line.

The downside to this route is a dearth of reasonable overnight stops, and tonight will find us in a lee at the Long Shoal River. We will be online entirely courtesy of satellite Internet. Tomorrow we should be back in civilization.